Contrite
by Dubious Sight
Summary: How far can you give yourself over to the darkness before you reach the point of no return? Ginevra Weasley believes in second chances. She spent two years training in Pure Magic, but will it be enough to cure the world of the darkness taking over? No one is safe, not even her. GW/TMR


**Prologue**

"Avada Kedavra," He shouted, pouring every bit of hate and anger into the curse.

"You can't kill me," she replied as the curse hit her and she seemed to absorb its power.

He screamed firing killing curse after killing curse and Cruciatus after Cruciatus. Eventually his hate-fulled tirade came to an end as he exhausted his power supply in torturing and killing every death eater within his reach.

She could not help but feel for them. There were once respectable people in the Wizarding community. Yes, they lowered themselves to joining Voldemort, but she had no doubt that most regretted it. The acts they did left a mark on ones soul, and completing vile task after vile task was eventually going to wear a man down, each taking a part of his soul. It was how people like Voldemort and Bellatrix became who they were. They had lost so much of their soul and mind that only anger and hate remained.

Voldemort was no longer human. He couldn't give a damn about the cause he'd initially started with. He was so hell bent on filling his void soul, he substituted with abuse, torment and killing. It consumed him, it was his every thought and they kept him from feeling anything deeper that his all-consuming anger.

He was there, collapsed and breathing raggedly.

"Look around you. You bring only death and destruction. There will be no world to rule because you'd have destroyed it all on your insane quest for power. You will not win, you can't. You've destroyed yourself almost beyond repair. I could kill you right now. You have burned out your magical core with hate and darkness. You have no defence, nothing to stop me from raising my wand and uttering the two words that will send you to the depths of hell where you will rot and pay for your crimes for eternity." His anger gave way to fear and vulnerability.

"That vulnerability is exactly how each of your victims felt moments before their death. They were powerless. However, unlike you, they had nothing to fear. They were welcomed into death with peace and clarity to live out eternity with the friends and family you took away from them. Death will not be so kind to you. You feel no remorse, no love, no regret, only hate. The hate that will take you to you worse nightmares as soon as you enter into the afterlife."

"Please," he begged. She scanned his emotions for sincerity. It was there.

"Why should I give you any mercy? You certainly gave your victims none. You're life here on earth will seem a walk in the park in comparison to the death you are facing."

"Please, help me." Desperation.

"Did you help any of your victims?"

"No," he said.

"Then why should I help you?"

"You are no killer," his voice was firm. The anger returning. She had to tread carefully. She had him backed into a corner and there was no telling what he would do.

"You are right. But in the state you are in now it would be entirely too easy to take you to someone who will and you will be powerless to stop me. However, to do that would be to go against my nature. I offer you the chance to repent and actively decide to pursue a life that helps others. I can help you with that. I will guide you, and under my tutelage you will discover power that you could only dream of. Repent and all shall be forgiven. There will be nothing to fear in the afterlife. Death will welcome you with open arms and you shall live out the rest of your days in peace, void of all anger, hate and fear. Repent and you shall begin your guest for power that only few have ever achieved."

With that, she turned to leave, emitting a glow worthy of a heavenly being. Her fiery red hair the only sign that she was not a creature of heaven, but the power she left in her wake certainly challenged that.

She stopped only to help a tortured Potions Master from the fray, amazingly the only survivor of Voldemort's wraith against herself.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Ginevra Weasley," He croaked.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey all, I'm looking for a beta-reader or just someone who I can bounce ideas off for this story. If you'd love to get involved, let me know. And if you would like me to take a look at your own work, it would be my pleasure :)


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